


The First Time

by KaCole



Series: Busted [9]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Busted, F/M, First Time, Romance, Sexual Content, Unreliable Narrator, life in the alpha quadrant, misremembering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-11-07 16:02:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17963675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaCole/pseuds/KaCole
Summary: Kathryn and Chakotay are back in the Alpha Quadrant, and facing questions about the propriety of their relationship. They certainly won’t share the truth with a meddling Starfleet administrator.Each recalls their first time together, but their memories don’t quite match up...





	1. Food, Flowers and Dimples

**Author's Note:**

> An add on to Busted at readers request. Some of you were curious about how it all started...
> 
> Many thanks to @killermantee and @sara_sedai for beta reading.

 

**The Alpha Quadrant.**

The debriefings go on for weeks. Glad as Kathryn is to be home, so many people asking questions—some more reasonable than others—quickly become a bore. Nevertheless, she conducts herself, day after day, with professionalism and grace, albeit with increasingly strained patience. Every night she comes home to Chakotay.

Tonight, he's beaten her home and is chopping carrots. She almost has to pinch herself, because there were times she thought they’d never get here, that her stubbornness or the harsh reality of life and death in the Delta Quadrant would thwart them. But here they are, home. In a shared apartment and a shared life in San Francisco.

She kisses him on the lips, lingering in his arms just because she can, without danger of a red alert or alien attack. Someday this might feel ordinary, but right now it's the best feeling in the world.

His debriefings often outlasted hers, so she is glad to see him. “You escaped early today.”

“Early enough to swing by the market to pick up fresh vegetables.” He nods at a heap of fresh produce; Astarian parsnips, celeriac, garlic. Not a leoloa root in sight.

“Delicious. Do I have time to shower before dinner?”

“Yes. Oh, your mother called. She wants us to go to Indiana soon. Says she has important arrangements to discuss.”

Kathryn laughs on her way to the shower. “I can guess what _that's_ about.”

#

Over dinner, they discuss their respective days. There’s no need to hide their relationship now, and Kathryn’s happy about that. But she's preparing herself for an awkward question or two at some point. So should he. 

“You know, they're going to get around to asking about the propriety of our relationship.”

Chakotay laughs. “I'm sure they will.”

“We better make sure we're on the same page.”

He takes another sip of Antarian cider. “Agreed. What do you have in mind?”

 

**Starfleet HQ**

Kathryn gives the clerk her most captain-like stare. It's rather cowardly of the Admiralty to leave _this_ question to a nervous-looking administrator. Either that, or it's a deliberate ploy to let her off the hook by leaving the delicate questions to someone they know she’ll run rings around.

“Our relationship?” she says with a note of incredulity. “The _relationship_ started the moment we arrived in the Delta Quadrant. Obviously a captain needs a trusting relationship with their first officer. Have you served aboard a Starship, Mr Wilhelm?”

Wilhelm flushes. “No ma'am…”

“I see. Forgive me,” says, as kindly as she can, for this really isn’t Wilhelm’s fault, “but that hardly qualifies you to examine relationship decisions on a ship stranded for seven years in deep space.”

Wilhelm rubs his ear nervously. “Captain, I understand your professional relationship began very early. I'm asking about your _personal_ relationship…”

Kathryn looks him straight in the eye. “Are you asking me to recount the first time I had sex with Chakotay?”

Wilhelm coughs and splutters, “No ma'am. Of course not.”

“Good. We're done here. I'll leave it to you to decide what to write on your report about the commander and I.”

Kathryn leaves Starfleet HQ smiling, remembering that first night Chakotay turned up at her door uninvited. It was her mother's birthday.

 

**The Delta Quadrant.**

The thought of her mother trying to celebrate, without knowing if her daughter was alive or dead, had been at the back of Kathryn’s mind all day. Phoebe would do her best to cheer their mother up, and Gretchen would try her hardest to appear positive, and really it was all too wretched for words.

Kathryn had skipped lunch and drank more coffee than was strictly good for her. Now she was suffering with an empty stomach, a raging headache and no replicator rations left to even get a sandwich. The half bottle of wine on her table was the only company she expected tonight.

The door chimed. Chakotay stood, slightly awkwardly, with an endearing smile and a tray with a pink flower in a small vase nestled between two bowls. “Neelix thought you might appreciate dinner, and I thought you might appreciate the company.”

“Oh?”

“Tuvok mentioned it’s your mother's birthday.”

“Talking about your captain behind her back? I'm not sure I approve.” Kathryn stepped aside to let Chakotay in.

“Don't blame Tuvok. You looked a little sad today, so I wheedled it out of him.” He set a bowl on either side of her table and placed the flower in between.

Kathryn sighed and sat down, perversely annoyed to be called out of her lonely reverie. Admittedly, it was hard to stay annoyed at a man with dimples, food and a flower. “I suppose I can't deny it's about time I ate something.” She gestured the table. “Drink?”

She found another glass and poured him wine.

He bent forward to lift the cover from the soup bowls, hers first and then his own, with a flourish. “I give you leola root soup.”

“Beats a ration pack,” Kathryn said with forced brightness.

“But it’s not birthday cake,” Chakotay replied gently, as he sat down.

“No, it isn't.” Kathryn rubbed her eyes. “I can’t imagine what my mother’s going through. She lost my father a few years ago. Now, not knowing…” She bit back her turbulent emotions, struggling to school her face into the captain’s mask that usually served her so well. His dark eyes, capable of rage and defiance, were filled with kindness. For a moment she thought Chakotay was going to reach across the table and take her hand, but there was a line, and he didn’t cross it.

“You'll see her again.”

“I appreciate the vote of confidence.”

“Look how far we’ve come already.”

Somehow, he always managed to say the right thing. Who could have guessed, when she chose him as first officer, he would turn out to be such a good friend, too? Loyal, smart and undeniably attractive with his dark eyes and soft smile. Surely this visit was above and beyond the call of duty, though.

“Tell me about her.”

Kathryn looked up abruptly. If anyone had asked her if she wanted to talk about how she was feeling, she'd have said no, but his gentle suggestion caught her off guard. What would be the harm in sharing a few memories?

“She is a determined woman. Tried to teach me how to cook, but I always had my head in a textbook. I must have exasperated her. She had plenty of patience, though, and she needed it.” Kathryn touched the flowers on the table, letting her fingers run over the velvet petals. Her mother always had flowers in the house. Tulips in spring. Sweet peas through the summer. And roses. Gretchen told her once she was like a rose. Complicated, elegant, beautiful, but with thorns. Kathryn had thought she was talking nonsense. She had been much younger then.  

“My mother has a knack for seeing all sides of a problem. She helped me realise that almost every situation is more complex than it first seems. Quite the diplomat, my mother. I learned a lot from her about dealing with people.” She smiled at the memory. “Not about cooking, though.”

Once she started talking, Kathryn couldn't stop. They talked about her childhood in Indiana, her drive to join Starfleet like her father, and in turn Chakotay told her of his people and life on Dorvan. It was easier than she expected, somehow. Chakotay could listen as well as he could spin a story, which Kathryn had always found a rare combination in a man. She found his stories compelling. It was hard to drag her eyes away from his face as he spoke. His soft, melodious voice was hypnotic. Had he always stirred her like this? Or was that just the low light and the wine? Who was she kidding? She'd been acutely aware of how attractive he was as a man from the first moment she met him.

His eyes became distant as he spoke of the Cardassian massacre on his home world. “You know the rest. I joined the Maquis.”

“I'm sure the Starfleet files only scratched the surface of that atrocious situation,” she said softly.

“Still, you were sent to capture me and bring me home.” He offered his wrists in mock supplication. “You're part way there.”

She laughed, with a tingling in her chest. “I never really captured you.”

“I wouldn't be so sure.” He let his forearms rest on the table. His eyes engulfed her.

She wanted to run her fingers across those upturned wrists, feel his skin under her fingers, but in the end she settled for a slightly less intimate gesture; taking his hand. “You're free to leave at any time,” she whispered.

“I’m not going anywhere.” He closed his hand around hers. “I must admit, I was surprised when you chose me, a Maquis, as your first officer. I expected you to offer Tuvok the role.”

“I was a little surprised when you accepted, given the Starfleet regulations and parameters that it entailed. You'd left Starfleet behind.”

“It seems we both have the capacity to surprise each other,” he said.

As he looked at her, she again felt the familiar tingle in her body she'd worked so hard to ignore over recent months. Interest. Uncertainty. Arousal. They were straying into unchartered territory by holding hands over dinner in her quarters. Very _enticing_ unchartered territory. But dangerous. He must know it too.

“I didn’t mean to take up your whole evening,” she murmured, shifting back in her seat a fraction, needing to create space to breathe.

He didn't look away, and he didn't let her hand go. “That’s all right. I’ve enjoyed it. To tell you the truth, the evenings can get a little lonely.”

That admission surprised her. “You get lonely? Chakotay, I'm sure you could take your pick of company on this ship.”

He smiled and blushed. “I’m flattered you think so. But even if that were true, they're all my subordinates. It wouldn't be right.”

“I suppose we must hold ourselves to a higher standard.”

“I suppose we must.”

They were still holding hands. She should let go, because it was clear he wouldn't. He turned her hand over in his, lacing their fingers together in a way that made her pulse spike. She hardly knew what to do with the possibilities sparking in her head. The tingling wouldn’t stop. Hell, she didn’t _want_ it to stop.

“Perhaps we should have dinner together like this. Occasionally. To fend off any loneliness,” she said tentatively, her face hot and flushed.

“I'd like that.”

This was madness. Weakness. She really shouldn't keep looking at him like this, for so many reasons. But it seemed her better judgement had not informed her wayward tongue, and her treacherous body was on a different page altogether. She glanced down at his lips, and with that small gesture, she knew that he saw the wanting in her eyes.

“Chakotay,” she murmured. One kiss. One brief kiss, just to know if his lips were as soft as they looked. She could kiss him once and pull away, couldn’t she? Chalk it up to bad judgement. Hell, he’d probably put a stop to it first, he was more risk averse than her in many respects. One kiss could do no harm, and frankly it would do her a whole lot of good. 

She leaned forwards, touched his face and pressed her lips to his. He made a soft sigh, of surprise, maybe. Then he leaned in and parted his lips. They were every bit as soft as she’d imagined.

Now she saw a flaw in her logic, one large enough to fly a galaxy class starship through. She wanted more of him. And he _wasn't_ pulling away, he was pulling her in, revelling in the kiss. So was she.

He ran his fingers through her hair.

His lips just felt so damn good against hers. It was a little awkward, though, kissing across the table like that, so she rose and shifted to stand in front of him.

This felt out of control, dangerous, the very definition of recklessness.

Skin. She wanted skin on skin, and to feel the heat between them, protocol and parameters be damned. She'd denied herself a long time. What would be the harm if nobody knew?

He stood up too, taking her hand, and stood staring until she couldn’t bear it a moment longer. She reached up to kiss him again, her hands sliding along his neck and up into his hair. He made an animalistic rumbling in his throat, pulling her closer, his hands on her hips, and oh it was sweet.

Starfleet protocols lingered in her mind, making her falter. “I’m your commanding officer,” she whispered. “I need to be clear this is something you want and not just something you feel you can’t refuse.” She looked up at him. “I'll understand if you want to take this one step at a time. We don't have to rush things if you're uncertain—”

“Damn it, Kathryn, stop talking.” He kissed her, and her body crackled, sparking with the arousal she’d set aside for so long. He moved her backwards, and soon they were kissing with their bodies crushed tight together in the archway to her bedroom.

She was aching, burning, for his touch. “The crew can’t know.”

“Agreed,” he said, hot in her ear.

“You can't stay the whole night.”

“Conceded. Reluctantly.” He tugged at her top. “No uniforms.”

“ _Definitely_ agreed.”

They had both perfected the art of getting into uniform fast when a night-time red alert summoned them to the bridge. Turned out, they could get _out_ of uniform just as quick. 

As they lay together on her bed, naked, kissing, she touched him for the first time. He closed his eyes, shuddering a little, as if her hand wrapped around his shaft was too much to bear. “You okay?” she asked, a little concerned.

“Yes, fine, just go slowly at first.” He relaxed gradually under her touch and lay back to watch her. “You are beautiful, you know.”

She almost laughed. “You're only saying that because I've got my hand around your cock.”

He touched her cheek. “No. I'm saying it because it's the first time I can. I've always thought it.” He let his fingers lightly stroke her neck, travel down to her breast, across her stomach, and lower.

“Smooth answer,” she conceded.

He snaked a hand between her legs, grinning. His fingers slid easily between her folds.

“Now _this_ is smooth.”

He quickly discovered the rhythm of her body, responding to the sounds she made, the way she moved her hips, touching her with skilled fingers until he had her almost screaming, tipping over the edge to her first orgasm.

He barely let her catch her breath before he was on her, pressing inside her, pulling back to the edge and then plunging deeper, over and over. She'd almost forgotten how good sex felt. The fun and banter. Then sweet thrill of kissing. The wicked heat of skin on skin. The rippling pleasure of an orgasm flooding her senses and wracking her body, and best of all, watching him come apart as he finally lost himself inside her.

After, they lay tangled in her Starfleet issue sheets, legs and arms entwined, her head resting on his shoulder.

He turned and kissed her forehead. “I'd like this to happen again.”

“So would I. But I can't make promises.”

“That’s all right,” he said, hiding any disappointment he might feel. “I'm a patient man.”

She didn't try to hide her smile. She doubted she'd make him wait _too_ long.


	2. Whisky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chakotay remembers the first time he and Kathryn made love. It's a little different from the way she remembers it, though.

**The Alpha Quadrant.**

Chakotay wakes in the bed that, finally, is neither _his_ nor _hers,_ but theirs. Her body is sweet and warm next to him. She stirs awake, and snuggles into him. It’s not like it was on Voyager, when she would often start awake, full of tension.

He pulls her into the crook of his shoulder, wrapping his arm around her. “Good morning.”

“Hmmm,” she answers. She sleeps nude now. He likes to think her intention is to make her body easily available to him, but in reality he knows it’s more about freedom. No one will disturb them, there’s no chance of a red alert dragging them to the bridge. And it’s summer time in San Francisco, too. He hopes the winter won’t drive her into a flannel nighty. It feels almost a miracle that they are finally here, making a home together _._ There was no question of them living separately; they made that quite clear despite the raised eyebrows at HQ. He also hopes today’s debriefing goes smoothly. He’s a little uncertain what to expect.

He rubs her shoulder. “So. You had your grilling about us yesterday. I’ve got Wilhelm today. Any advice?”

“Convince him we didn’t enter into this relationship lightly,” she says. “But I don’t think he’s really out to trip us up.” Kathryn laughs softly. “Do you remember our first time? You turned up at my door on my mother’s birthday, with some soup and flowers on a tray.”

Chakotay laughs. “Sounds like me. But that wasn’t our first time.”

“Yes it was.”

“No, I distinctly remember you turning up at my door late one night with the intention of seducing me.”

“I did not!”

“Two glasses of whisky later, you succeeded.” He’s getting hard just thinking about it.

She props herself up on her elbow, wearing a good-natured scowl. “That’s not how it happened. That night with the whisky was two months later.”

“It _wasn’t_.” He grabs her hips, and pulls her on top of him, so she can feel his arousal.

She’s grinning, and he’s not sure _what_ she’s remembering now to make her smile like that and grind her pelvic bone against his erection. She’ll never admit she’s wrong.

“Don’t worry,” he says, before he kisses her. “I won’t tell Wilhelm a thing.” 

**Starfleet HQ.**

Administrator Wilhelm feels like he's been shafted by his boss. These questions! He's already been on the sharp end of Janeway’s tongue, and he’s not one hundred per cent convinced he won't meet a Marquis fist before the day’s out.

Wilhelm takes a breath before asking his final question. “Thank you, Commander. One last thing. About your personal relationship with Captain Janeway while on _Voyager_.”

Chakotay sighs. “This wasn't just an affair, you know. We intend to—”

“I'm aware of your plans.” There probably isn't anyone in the sector who doesn't know about the golden couple’s plans, no matter how hard they try to avoid the news outlets and well-wishers. The crew has been pretty tight lipped about the finer details of how and when the relationship started, though.

Wilhelm forces a nervous smile. “Please understand. This isn't a board of inquiry. Just an informal review.”

“I suppose we got to the stage, after years alone in the Delta Quadrant, not knowing if we'd ever make it home, when we realised we had deep and lasting feelings for one another. Even then, we sat down and talked it through carefully. We tried to be as open and transparent as we could be, right from the start, to minimise the impact on the crew and on our working relationship.”

“So you embarked on a romance, even though there was no possibility of reassignment if things went sour between you? Wasn't that a bit risky?”

“We didn't dive into this without thinking it through. It was a well-considered decision.”

“So you say. When did this relationship start, exactly?”

Chakotay smiles disarmingly. “Well it's hard to say, exactly.”

“Try.”

“I didn't make a note it in my log.” The commander folds his arms, making it clear the topic is closed. Wilhelm doesn't argue, but he can't help noticing Chakotay’s smile...

**The Delta Quadrant.**

Chakotay was ready to get into bed when his door chimed. At this hour, he considered ignoring it, but in the end he padded wearily across the room to open it.

“Captain?”

She wore just her tank and pants, and her hair loose. She'd never called on him this late before.

He must have been staring, because after a moment she said, “Can I come in?”

“Of course.” Aware that he was barefoot and wearing only his sleepers, he flushed and ran his fingers through his hair. “I'm sorry, I was just about to go to bed.”

She waved a hand. “Let's not stand on ceremony.”

“All right. Ah, can I get you a drink?” He watched her walk across his room with intense curiosity. Why was she here?

“Thank you. Whisky.”

Oh, so it was a whisky kind of night. They'd survived a run in with the Kazon days ago and spent every waking hour since repairing the damage. Nerves were still frayed, and the captain had been itching to get under way. Was she here to badger him about getting the work done faster? She knew the crew were doing their best.

He passed her the glass and sat beside her on the sofa, just far enough away to be appropriate, closer, perhaps than he would dare in the daytime. She held herself with a restless kind of energy, as if she was coiled, ready to spring up and prowl the room at any moment. If her stormy eyes were anything to go by, this whisky wasn't her first drink of the evening.

She looked about as frazzled as he felt.

She didn't speak, she just swirled her glass, took a swig, and clamped her jaw. For the want of anything better to do, he did the same, watching her over the top of his tumbler.

In the dim light, she was captivating. He'd found her beautiful the moment he’d seen her, but right now he’d call her dangerously hypnotic. The way the light caught her cheekbones and her fingers clasped the glass. He was a man entranced, and he knew it.

“What brings you here, Captain?” he asked softly, easing his thoughts back from the erotic path they wanted to tread, all too aware of the grinding tension of wanting someone he shouldn't.

She crossed her ankles. “Earlier today, when we spoke about the fraternization policy, you seemed concerned that intimate relations between crew members might cause problems. Can you elaborate?”

Oh, the irony. He'd said what he thought she wanted to hear, and it turned out she had been thinking the opposite. “Well, I’ve considered the points you made. We're a long way from home. People get lonely. They're bound to start pairing off.”

“Frankly, I'm surprised it's taken this long. We’ve been out here fourteen months.” She took another deep draught of her drink, and met his gaze with her eyes narrowed. “I thought your question was a little on the nose.”

His question had been deliberate, to needle her and gauge her response, and he wasn't even sorry. In truth, he felt a little like needling her now. After all, she was in his quarters after dark with a whisky in her hand, and he was not oblivious to the fact that she was a woman as well as his captain.

He affected an air of innocence. “Oh?”

She squinted at him sideways, and said with an edge of harshness, “You asked me if I included myself in this loosened fraternization policy.”

He smirked. “And you said a relationship was a luxury you couldn't afford. Had a change of heart?”

“About fraternization with subordinates?” She swallowed the rest of her drink in one hit, and grimaced. “Certainly not.” She looked away, crossing her legs, while shifting her weight a fraction towards him. Whether that was deliberate or not, he couldn't tell.

“Shame. Like you said, out here all we have is each other.” He reached for the glass in her hand. “Same again?”

His thumb brushed her fingers as she relinquished the glass. The rim was smeared with red lipstick, a shade darker than any she wore during the day. Had she put that on for him?

“Thank you.” As he walked to the replicator, the air in the room seemed warmer. Or maybe it was just the heat of desire prickling his skin. He ordered two more whiskeys.

As his back was turned away from her, she said softy, “I might be open to a more flexible definition of fraternization.”

The walk back from the replicator to the sofa seemed light years. How the hell was he supposed to respond to that? Like her dutiful first officer? Or a man who wanted a woman who was sitting in his quarters after midnight, drinking whisky.

As he passed her the glass, he threw the question right back at her. “How _do_ you define fraternization?” When he sat, he positioned himself closer to her than he’d been sitting before.

She turned her head towards him. “I’d say fraternization includes inappropriate personal conduct while on duty. Any interference with the chain of command, whatsoever, in any form. Erosion of personal space or autonomy, for example…” she glanced across the room towards his bed, “...spending the night in somebody's quarters.”

“You sound like you've already thought this out,” he said. “So, tell me, are we fraternizing now?”

The space between them on the sofa seemed tiny. Her eyes roamed around his face.

“Well, let’s see,” she said. “We’re not on duty—”

“—and I don't intend to subvert the chain of command.” He leaned in, just as she leaned back and stretched her legs. Those legs. _Damn._

“We’re safe, for now.” Her voice was scraped raw by the whisky, her lips red and glistening. He wanted to taste those lips. He shifted his weight towards her again. She met his eyes. All these months, she’d never looked at him quite like that, with such open curiosity. “We’ve got to keep this crew functioning. With no counsellor. No doctor but an EMH, and who knows what will happen to him if we leave the programme running much longer. No back up from Starfleet or advice when things get tough. Limited opportunities for rest and recreation. Oh, I talk a good talk for the crew, Chakotay, about getting us home before our loved ones give up on us. But I'm a realist as well as an optimist. We might be out here for a long time.”

She burned him with those blue eyes that seemed to ask questions he couldn’t quite grasp. Was she reaching out? For what? Friendship or something more?

“I'm not the perfect captain, Chakotay.”

“Who could be, out here?”

Her intense blue eyes fixed on a spot over his shoulder. “The perfect captain would be wholly focused on her crew. Her mission. She wouldn't spend a moment thinking about herself.”  

“I'm not sure that's true. We have to hold ourselves together before we can take care of anyone else.”

She turned her unwavering gaze towards him. “Or hold each other together.”

She let her hand fall lightly on his knee. He looked down, his breath stolen by the unexpected intimacy.

Over the months, he had been endlessly fascinated with those hands and the things she did with them, laying them on a chest or a shoulder as easily as turning a phaser rifle on an enemy dismantling the warp core. Each action taken with its own brand of passion or grace. And now one of those hands rested gently on his knee. _His knee_. Kathryn in his quarters, after midnight, with her hand on his knee and whisky on her red, red lips.

His pulse spiked, arousal sparking through him mercilessly. If she didn’t back off soon he’d do something they both might regret.

“Everyone else on this ship is a subordinate,” she said.

“ _I'm_ your subordinate.”

“That's why there would have to be rules, Chakotay.”

He could barely breathe. He wanted nothing more than to claim those lips, rules be damned. Holding himself still under her touch took a supreme act of will.

“I'm listening,” he said mildly.

“I know myself, Chakotay. I know my body and my own wants and needs. Fourteen months untouched is a long time. I don't know if it's been the same for you?”

Her question was gentle, but probing, her eyes searching his face without a hint of embarrassment or shame.

“I haven’t slept with anyone on _Voyager_ ,” he said softly. “I couldn’t take a member of the crew to bed knowing you were asleep in the room next door.”

She watched his face so closely, as if weighing his answer. “Not even Seska?”

“Especially not Seska.”

Her smile flashed something, pleasure maybe. Or perhaps relief. In any case she had him a little on the back foot.

He threw a question of his own back at her. “What about Mark?”

She stiffened. “One of those rules is _never ask about Mark_.”

He nodded. “What other rules should I know about?”

“No fooling around on duty—that's rule number one.”

“Just so we’re clear, what constitutes fooling around?”

“Damn it, Chakotay, are you going to make me to spell it out?”

Her eyes were full of want, her face flushed. The irritation below the surface that he wasn't jumping at her command made it all too delicious for words.

“Hmmm, yes, Kathryn, I think I am.” He used her name deliberately. It felt dangerous, shifting the balance between them.

She stood up and moved to stand in front of him. He gazed up at her in tight silence, his heart racing, his body aching to touch her and be touched. He’d idly fantasized about this, late at night as she lay a few feet away behind the bulkhead separating their quarters, a hot dream he'd thought would never happen. Yet here she was.

“I want you, Chakotay,” she whispered.

His hands moved to rest gently on her hips and eased her forward to stand between his legs. “You want what, exactly?”

She almost growled. Leaning forward, she kissed him full on the lips. She tasted of whisky and desire. Heat coursed through him.

Her tongue flicked between his lips, into his mouth, and then she pulled back. “I want to fuck you.”

He groaned and pulled her in for another kiss, harder, deeper, and eased her shirt out from her waistband to get his hands close to her skin. She whimpered at the contact and kissed him back, her tongue darting into his mouth to tangle with his.

Part of him still wondered if this was a dream, or a trick, but it felt so good to have this woman in his arms. She shifted back again, tugged her grey tank over her head and discarded it. He slid his hands slowly up her sides to rest just below her breasts, still hidden from him behind a workaday bra; no lace, functional, practical.

It had to go.

Deftly, he hooked his hands around her back to unclip the bra and let it fall to the floor.

He sat back to gaze at her trim waist and perfect breasts with hungry eyes. Exquisite torture to draw this out, but oh so glorious.

“Don’t you want to touch me?” Without waiting for an answer, she brought his hand to her breast, covering her pale skin completely with his darker hands. He lifted his gaze to meet her eyes and saw a hunger that matched his own.

_We’re all alone out here. All we have is each other._ Her words, but they echoed his own feelings exactly. If she gave him this, even just once, it would sustain him for years, but maybe he could make her want more of him.

“Tell me what you want, Kathryn. Tell me what you like.”

“Your shirt, off,” she said gruffly.

He flung his shirt aside and stood up, took her face in both his hands and kissed her fiercely. She matched his fervour, pressing herself to his chest, moaning gently as he clasped her butt.

Her uniform pants were his next target.  

He ran his hands over her hips and down the front of her thighs. “You have terrific legs.”

“You’ve never seen my legs.”

“True,” he said into her ear. “I always _imagined_ you have terrific legs.”

“Oh? How often have you imagined that?”

“Only once or twice...”

“That’s slightly disappointing.”

“...a day.”

She laughed. “Well let’s see if reality lives up to your fantasy.” Kathryn stepped back, and removed her remaining clothes, until she stood nude before him, bold and unashamed. She took his breath away.

“You do have terrific legs,” he breathed. He drew her to him, kissing her neck, his hands on her hips, grinding her close so she could feel his arousal, savouring the sweetness of her weight against him. “Let’s go to the bedroom.”

“No bedroom,” she said, moving towards his table. “Here.” She turned one of his dining chairs around, crooking a finger towards him.

“Here?”

“Hmmm,” she hummed, easing his soft sleepwear over his hips until his cock sprung free. “Hmmm,” she said again, and then pushed him onto the chair. “This is what I want.”

She took him in her mouth. He closed his eyes for a moment. It was almost too much, seeing her crouched naked between his legs, lips around his cock, but he soon opened his eyes again to watch her head bob, her hair sway. He reached for her hair, touching it softly, moving the stray locks from her face so he could see her clearly. It had been a very long time since anything but his own hand had brought him pleasure, and he couldn't remember anything feeling quite like this. His stomach tensed. He was edging towards coming, but he certainly didn’t want this to end so fast.

“Kathryn, stop,” he said, a little more sharply than he’d intended.

She looked up, almost smugly. “Too much?”

“Sit on me,” he commanded.

Her eyes flashed, that mix of arousal and irritation he’d seen before, but she eased herself onto the edge of his knees holding her body just short of his cock.

“You want to be inside me, hmmm? You want to screw your captain?”

“Yes ma’am,” he said, straining to reach her.

“Not so fast. Touch me first,” she said.

“Gladly.” She was slippery, soft as silk. “Fuck,” he murmured. “You’re so wet.”

“It’s been a long time, Chakotay,” she said, more softly than she’d said anything since she arrived.

He wrapped one arm around her back to hold her, and stroked her clitoris with the fingers of his other hand, listening to the sounds she made as she moved when he rubbed back and forth, or teased her in small circles, until she was mewling and shuddering in his arms, desperately beautiful.

She needed something from him more than sex, he thought. He held her through her orgasm, whispering sweet words, letting her grind and take what she needed from his hand, and his lips, as she groaned out a kiss into his mouth.

“Now,” she said, still riding the wave of her orgasm. She raised herself and then sank onto him, down and down until he was fully sheathed inside her. Eye to eye, there was nowhere to hide, and she didn’t try to.

She held still, taking time to kiss his lips, tracing the lines of his tattoo with her fingers, and then leaning back so he could squeeze her breasts, until his urge to thrust was more than he could stand. 

His pelvic bone was lined up perfectly with her clitoris, and when she rubbed herself against him he lifted her hips to guide her until she was gasping again, moaning hard, and his own thrusts became faster, hot and desperate. They were light years away from _Voyager_ , and Starfleet and the burden of command. They disappeared into each other, in a shuddering, glorious cataclysm and there was only the sound of their breathing and the pounding of his heart against her chest as they floated down together.

He felt her body melt into his, as if for just this moment she knew contentment. He held still, afraid to shatter the delicate thread that held them close.

In the end though, he broke the silence. “Are you alright?”

“Hmm. That was unexpected.”

He gave a light laugh. “You _didn’t_ come here with this in mind?”

“Oh, I did. I just didn’t expect it to feel so…” she hesitated, as if the words were too uncomfortable to say out loud. He didn’t push her. If she was already regretting it, he didn’t want to know. But she whispered anyway. “...right.”

She didn’t stay long after. She kissed him once more on the lips, fully, and then got dressed. “I’d like this to happen again,” she said, as she hovered at the door.

“So would I.”

“Then remember rule number one.” With a smile bright enough to spin a darkstar off its axis, she was gone.

**The Alpha Quadrant.**

Kathryn wakes early with the sun shining through a gap in the curtain. There is nowhere they need to be for at least forty-eight hours, no debriefings, no awkward questions about their relationship. The origins of their joint story might be little blurred in her memory, mixed as they were with a thousand red alerts and too many losses to count, although she still believes she’s right about their first time. But it doesn’t really matter.

He kept her sane, and she likes to think she didn’t drive him crazy _all_ the time.

Chakotay wakes beside her. “We have two whole days free,” he says. “What shall we do with all that time?”

“Well, I was thinking we could enjoy a slow start.” She kisses him and runs her hands over his chest. “Then I thought I could abuse my rank privileges and use the HQ transporter to beam us direct to Indiana.”

“That will please your mother.” He turns on his side and strokes her hair.

“It will please me, too,” she says, her heart singing. “We have a wedding to plan.”


End file.
